


Lake Tahoe

by everybreatheverymove



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everybreatheverymove/pseuds/everybreatheverymove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three-shot. The wedding ceremony, the night between newlyweds, and the morning after that you never got to see. J/A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wedding

It wasn't a church, or a barn or even anything remotely indoors.

There was grass, and flowers and an arch way above them.

There was a field, but no butterflies and no mints. Nothing the barn back in Seattle had.

The lady at the office had suggested the place, citing that they seemed happy and April's admission that she wanted a field wedding had triggered the elder woman into dragging them out onto a field in the middle of a beautiful resort.

It was windy, but the sunshine overtook the breeze and the goosebumps running up the bride's arms weren't from the cool air.

They were doing this. She was doing this, with the right man.

"Are you ready?"

They had nodded, his hands on her waist over the now worn-in wedding dress, her feet nervously tapping against the blades of grass.

"More than ever."

She had stood beside him, letting the wet leaves moisten her gown. She takes a breath, hands shaking before he takes on, holding it and holding her, claiming her as his.

Her veil had been abandoned somewhere along the way from Seattle to Lake Tahoe, and her hair was beginning to fall from her braid, the twelve hour drive having taken a toll on her appearance. But he had reassured that she was still her, and still beautiful, and he still wanted to marry her more than anything.

His jacket had disappeared, probably in his car, maybe back at the resort.

Thankfully they offer quick and short weddings, with assured legality and a glorious honeymoon suite. Expensive, deluxe, but his credit card doesn't have a limit and he'll give her everything she deserves.

Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he digs into his pocket to retrieve the rings they'd purchased somewhere a couple of hours away. Hers was silver, his was gold. Similar in a way and yet slightly different, a little like them.

She accepts the ring from him, biting her lip when he grins, green eyes alight and focus on her own. She'll never grow bored of this, of him.

"Do you have any vows, or-"

"Yes." April cuts the minister slash manager off, eyes wide as she glances over to him.

Her hands twitch and she smiles, licking her lips.

"I just- I," she pauses, taking a breath and peeking a look at Jackson, at her right groom, at her very-soon-to-be husband, "I love you. I know you know that, but I- I haven't said it yet and I need to. Because you did and it was beautiful and you deserve to know that I love you too. I do. I love you, Jackson. I always have."

He grins at that, watching she glances down at the grass, breath shaky.

"You're my best friend." She tells him, "I know a lot of people say that, and, you know, say that they're married to their best friend, but you really are. You always have been. You were there for me when I needed you, and you supported me when nobody else would and I can't thank you enough for that."

"April-"

"Let me finish?" She almost giggles, licking her lips again and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "I'm not done." She grins, a soft blush covering her cheeks, "I am happy that you were you, that you are my first, my everything." She admits, "I love you, and I know I've made some mistakes but I want you to know that I only ever want to be with you, that I will only ever be with you. I love you, and I have missed you, and I want you."

He smiles, that million-dollar grin he always uses to get his way but that never quite managed to work on her. He's happy, and content, and so relieved that she's marrying him and nobody else. He had won, he had prevailed. He had loved.

"I-" He swallows a breath, a small frown gracing his face as he tries to find the words.

They matter, they mean something, and he wants to get them right. Again.

"This is has been a... strange fifteen hours, and I know you're probably tired and want nothing more than to sleep and eat and probably cry a little bit, but- I love you. You know that, and I know that you do because I made a point of telling you that. In a weird way, really, but I didn't see another choice, because I needed you. And I could have sat there and not moved and watched you start your life with someone that wasn't me, but I didn't want to. It was selfish, and wrong, but I think I was meant to do it. I think I was meant to choose you, and you were supposed to choose me. You were always supposed to choose me. And I've never- I've never believed in soulmates or fate or... anything, really, but I believe in this, and in you, and in us. Because I want this. I want to marry you, and to love you, and to make you happy. I want you."

He can see her staring at him in awe, tears down her face and cheeks flushed, and he continues. He'll always continue, always reassure her, always love her.

"I want to be your husband, because I am ready. I'm ready to start my life with you, to have a family with you. I want a life with my best friend and I know that my timing is kinda crappy and we haven't always done things the right way, but I'm sure. I am sure that you are it. That you are meant to be with me. That you are my soulmate. And I'm not a guy who believes in soulmates."

April breaks into a soft laughter then, reaching across to touch him, to cup the sides of his face and drag him closer.

"I love you." She mumbles, forehead pressed to his and eyes teary as she chews on her lip, ring pressed to his flesh.

"Do you?" He grins, sparkly-eyed and proud, rubbing his nose along hers and waiting for the minister to finish this thing already.

He can't wait anymore. He needs her, wants her. He can't wait to kiss her, and hold her tenderly, and touch her in a way that only he ever has. He can't wait for her to be his wife, and to be her husband. He can't wait to love her.

Jackson pulls his head away from her for a quick second, watching as the man beside them quotes and speaks and fails to hide the smirk on his face.

"I now pronounce you-"

It's too late.

April is already kissing him, her husband, her love. Her hands are on his face, eyes closed tight and lips pushed against his in need, in desperation.

They're married and in love, and they've missed each other so much that their only wish is to head up to their sacred honeymoon suite and declare the love, the passion, the need that had been missing for the past year.

"Me and you, right?"

"Me and you." Jackson nods slowly, nibbling on his bottom lip for a second before he grabs her by the waist, pulling her up swiftly and twirling her around as she squeals.

They had done it. She had done it, with the right man. With her perfect man. With her best friend.


	2. The Night

She's still in shock.

She's shocked, and overwhelmed and, yet, so freaking happy at the same time.

"Oh my gosh!" She shrieks, running down the hallway and tugging him along behind her.

She's a bundle of nerves, her mind is reeling and her legs are weak, but none of that matters because she's happy. She's happy, and she's married.

They did it. They really did it and, to be honest, she's still a little stunned.

She had somehow ran out on her wedding to hitch herself to someone else, the someone she should have been marrying in the first place.

It was the right choice; she knows that much, she no longer bares any guilt or confusion. She knows what she wanted, she's sure of it, and she got it; she got him.

She feels his hands meet her waist over the thick fabric of her dress and she leans back against him. Her head falls back to his shoulder and she smiles up at him, her hands searching to find his jacket. She twists herself around and grasps the collars of his shirt.

"Jackson?"

He grins and stares down at her, slipping a hand past her waist to open the door to their room for the night. "Yeah?"

His voice is low and husky and she chews on her bottom lip, her nostrils flaring in eager, "We're married."

They'd rushed down to Lake Tahoe, found the quickest possible way of getting married and then they'd run off. Again.

He'd found the hotel about twenty minutes away from the venue, and they were somewhere along the border between California and Nevada. It was nice, classy, and he'd made sure that the girl at the reception had given them the Honeymoon Suite. Granted, they wouldn't be here for long, but he intended to give his new wife the whole deal.

They were married, they were tied. Together, forever. And he never wanted to get out of their bind.

The door behind her opens and he carelessly throws the keycard onto the floor in the suite before he pauses. She goes to move into their room, her hands holding the hem of her dress up as she walks but he stops her from entering the doorway. She raises a brow out of curiosity and shrieks when he picks her up then, his right arm hooking behind the backs of her knees.

She throws her arms around his neck and giggles into the side of his neck when he kicks the door shut behind them.

He drops her back down on the bed, the creased material of her now worn-in wedding dress spreading beneath her. She bites her lip, tucking her fallen strands of hair behind her ears.

"I love you."

She'll never grow tired of hearing it. She knows it.

"I love you, too."

She reaches to grasp his shirt, pulling him down to her level and letting him ease her down onto the mattress. Shoes are kicked off and socks follow, and he chooses to ignore the fact that she'd obviously been prepared for running since she was wearing sneakers beneath her gown. She frowns when her dress gets between them; it's been so long. She needs this, needs him.

"Wait, wait."

Jackson pauses, lifting his hands from her waist and allowing her to move out from under him, "What is it?"

"I wanna do this right." She turns her back toward him, and cups her hands over her chest, "Unzip me?"

He stands back up, rolling his shirt sleeves back up his forearms before he grasps the tiny zip along the low of her back, pulling it down.

He pops open the buttons along her spine, fingertips tracing her shoulder-blades and skin.

"You good?" He grins and she licks her lips, moving away from him before she turns back around, letting the white gown fall down to the floor.

She steps out of the dress, suddenly feeling his intense gaze staring down at her, with need and love and everything in between.

He notices her attire then, the white lace and the tight garter and the incredibly-slutty pearl thong.

"You-" eyebrows raised and mouth open, he's mesmerised.

His April, the one who had spent thirty years with her legs closed was wearing a thong and looking so delectable that he found himself feeling guilty for staring at her. She was naturally timid, and petite, and as much as he had tried, he had never once imagined her like this. But he was loving it. Of course he was.

She shrugs her shoulders, chewing on her lip for a second before she steps toward him, hands on his shoulders and eyes wide.

He tries to ignore the bad feeling in his gut when she pushes him back on the bed and straddles his lap, legs spread and eyes darkening.

She wasn't dressed like this for him; it had been for someone else. Someone who didn't deserve it, didn't deserve her. Or, maybe he deserved her more.

But he couldn't, didn't want to, imagine her with another man, he had always felt a queasiness rattle his stomach whenever he saw her kissing the other guy. He didn't want to think about her being touched, being seen, being loved by another man.

She was his. Only his. And he was hers.

"Jackson?" She voices with a gentle grin, biting down on her bottom lip as her palms trace his shirted-chest and she squeezes her legs tighter around his thighs.

"Yeah?" It comes out husky, deep-throated, almost like he could barely breathe.

April smiles, "We're married."

"I know."

He smirks, hands gripping her waist when her smaller fingers find the buttons of his shirt, slowly pulling it open.

He leans up on his elbows so she can push the material from his shoulders, hands meeting flesh and eyes lustful.

It's been a long time, perhaps too long, and she can't wait to touch him, and kiss him, and let him do whatever he wanted to her.

His hands run through her red hair after she drops his shirt to the ground, fingertips tracing his tanned muscles, moving across his collarbone and grasping the sides of his face as he leans up to kiss her.

His right hand meets her behind, thumb messing with the flimsy undergarment. She giggles and reaches behind her to grab his hand, pulling away from his lips.

"What?"

"That tickles."

"Well then, how about we take it off?" He gleams up at her like a schoolboy getting to second base and she rolls her eyes when he grips her hips again and flips them over, pinning her beneath him.

Jackson kisses her briefly on her swollen lips before he travels lower, tongue meeting bone and eyes never leaving her own. He can feel her chest beginning to pound beneath his touch, especially when he drops his hands to her breasts for a second, fingertips curving around her sides.

He grins when she softly moans, eyes closed and digs her way into the pillow beneath her head.

His hands move from her hips to her thighs, pulling them up abruptly and thumbs swirling around the lace over her pelvis.

"You're killing me." He mutters, green eyes sparkling and resembling those of a venomous snake.

The redhead giggles again, bringing her hands to the back of his head as he pushes the garment over her hips and up her flat stomach.

He holds it up below her breasts, sweeping his lips across her abdomen and nuzzling his nose against her pelvis, a small glint in his eye as she gulps with a soft sigh.

"Jackson-"

"I know."

He knows her. He knows everything about her. He knows every part of her. He's the only man, the only person, to ever truly know her that well, to remember every sensitive spot and every crease in her body, to memorise her. He loves it, loves her.

She shifts beneath him, pulling the skimpy lingerie off of herself, fed up with waiting. She runs a hand down the back of his skull when he moves lower, lips tracing the insides of her thighs and teeth dragging the garter down her leg. He smirks proudly when she collapses back down, eyes shut tight and mouth ajar.

"Jackson-"

He ignores her then, pulling the pink and white striped cloth down her leg with his hand, dropping it carelessly before he runs his palms back up her legs, spreading her legs at the same time.

"Please?"

It's almost a beg, a plea. She cups the sides of his face when he kisses her lips again, her teeth gracing his lower lip and eyes staring into his. His fingers hook down the sides of her thong and he pauses.

He's doing this right, this time. She deserves to be cherished, to be adored. She deserves slow and romantic, not some quick hook-up in a bathroom stall.

She's worth more than that, they're worth more than that. And he wants to give her everything, all of him.

Her hands find his belt, quickly discarding it and unzipping his trousers, hands slipping down the back. He laughs quietly when she pinches his butt, a small grin on her face.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Definitely."

He shakes his head with an amused smile and kisses her again, more passionately than before and with more pressure, more need. He craves it, craves her. And he knows now more than ever that the feeling is returned.

There is no guilt, to shame.

There's just him, and her, and the issues and forgotten conversations that lingered between them have disappeared. If not just for now.

There is just them, and a bed, and a different state, and vows. To love and to cherish. To adore and promise. To heal and help. For life.

He backs away for a second to pull his pants away, taking his boxers with them at the same time, before he joins her again, hands split between her waist and thigh.

She thrusts up into him, hips curling and chest panting.

She needs it, needs him. More than anyone, more than ever.

He slips his hands down her back, pulling the thin material covering her pride down as he goes, and she lifts her behind easily to allow him to slip the item off.

Once he drops it beside them on the floor, she wraps her legs around his thighs, arms around his shoulders and she chews on her lip.

He's so close, and she's so desperate, and they've waited long enough.

She has waited long enough.

Because, in the end, she did wait for her husband. It just happened at an odd time in a different place than she had planned and with someone that she had never expected, someone she would, could, never replace.

She feels him reach between them and place himself against her centre, her throat dry and lips raw.

It's him, it's always been him.

"I love you." He leans his forehead against her own, a small frown on his face as he slowly eases into her, watching as she gasps at the sensation.

Over a year yet it still feels the same. They still feel the same.

The chemistry is still alight, the spark is still alive, and she can still feel those tingles running up and down her spine when he grabs her waist and pulls her closer, moving faster within her walls.

Her hips curve, roll and buckle upwards into him, her small hands finding the sides of his neck to support herself. Her eyes drift shut and she lightly cries when he thrusts harder, her legs pulling up at his sides.

She links her ankles behind his backside, and her fingernails dig into his flesh. Her back arches and she licks her lips when he traces his mouth down the side of her neck, suckling and nibbling her pale skin.

She could never grow tired of him, of every feeling that he brings out in her.

"Jackson-!" She moans, knuckles whitening as she clasps her hands behind his neck, head throwing back as she feels herself reaching her climax.

He glides his fingers from her waist to her face, thumb tracing her chin sweetly as he continues to meet her every move, increasing the speed of his thrusts as he feels himself nearing.

"Argh!"

He grunts, leaning into her, forehead to her collarbone and slowing his speed as he follows her to completion, head turning to watch as she finishes her orgasm, chest heavy and lips shredded from her own, and his, teeth.

"That-"

She nods, letting her back contort and pushing her chest up into his, unintentionally with satisfaction.

"Yes!"

She collapses back down on the bed, hair sprawled around her from falling from her plait and eyes closed.

He copies her, hips still moving until he finishes in her, body pressing into hers and breath mixing with her own as he leans across slightly to kiss her.

She smiles against his mouth, hands cupping his face and he grins like a child.

"We're married."

"Me and you."

There is just them. Him, and her, and a whole bunch of complications that don't need attention right now.

There is him, and there is her, and there is them. Together. Bound. Tethered. Forever.


	3. The Newlyweds

He's never been much of morning person. He prefers nighttime; it's quieter, darker, calmer.

And he's certainly never thought that sunlight streaming though the window at the break of dawn could ever be so beautiful.

Maybe it's because there's a pale-skinned redhead with eyes like amber curled up beside him, and the light is shining along the curve of her back and he can't help but stare. Maybe it's because he's happy, for once, so he's seeing things differently than he had before.

The room is warm, just like her body is against his own, and he can make out the distinct sounds of her light breathing as she sleeps, continues to dream or daze.

Somehow within the sake of thirty-six hours, give or take, he's managed to change a good half of his whole life.

Two days ago, he'd been dreading going to somebody else's wedding. Yesterday, he was attending his own. It's a brutal contrast but he wouldn't change it for the world.

Turning over onto his side, he rests up on his forearm, slipping his hand beneath his pillow and moving his free one to her waist.

He doesn't remember her skin being so soft, so light, so undamaged. He doesn't remember her shaky breaths as she dreams, the small kicks of her feet as she shivers.

But he doesn't think he ever took the time to take those things in back then. Maybe they hurried things, maybe they wanted to, maybe they were supposed to.

He doesn't believe that things happen for a reason; that kind of faith is all down to her. He doesn't believe in miracles, in fate, but he also acknowledges that he once refused to believe in soulmates.

Maybe some things are truly meant to be, but he would never lay his future down in the hands of a supposed higher power. He refuses to, can't.

But he can respect her for it. Now that he's thought about it, over sleepless nights and casual daydreams, he can see how she would want to believe that He could have answers. It's like some sort of really jacked up safety net, one that you can't see or hear or feel.

It's just that he likes the proven side of things, not the mysterious did-it-actually-happen side, not the let-me-trust-some-potentially-fake-book-to-make-all-my-decisions side. He likes Darwin. He likes evolution. He likes chemicals, reactions. He likes blood, and guts, and doctors saving people. He likes if it's supposed to happen, it'll happen's. He likes making things happen. He likes the idea of them, her. He likes, loves, her.

He can believe in love, despite the fact that he can't see or hear it. He can feel it. It's not concrete; it's just his own jacked up version of faith.

His hand on her waist moves across her flesh, slipping up and across the outline of her ribcage, pads of his fingertips marking her skin as he moves back down, thumb sweeping the curve of her back as he grips her body securely.

"Hmm." She mumbles in her half-slumber, doing that kicking thing again and pushing her bottom into his front slightly, earning an unseen smirk on his face.

Without moving his body an inch, he tightens his hold on her waist, cradles her bones protectively.

"Morning."

He smiles then, watching as she slowly turns over, sleepy glossy eyes and sprawled hair across her pillow. "Hey."

April stretches her shoulders, pulls the falling sheets up to cover her breasts again. She supposes they're on a whole other level of intimacy at this point, but... still. It's new (again), kind of strange, and it may take a while to get used to.

Jackson moves across to kiss her, hand falling from her body and finding the space beside her head to lean on. Forehead pressed to hers and lips dancing against her own tenderly, he smiles, bright eyes scolding her own.

"Hi." She blushes, moving a strand of hair from her face with one hand and lifting her chin slightly to push her lips against his own, moaning a soft cry when he slips his tongue past her bruised barrier, left thumb caressing her jaw as she grants him entrance.

Her eyes stay shut tight, her small hands finding the back of his neck to pull him down and closer, into her, inviting him to invade her space.

Jackson pulls away after a moment, nose gently touching hers and noticing up close the way her long lashes touch her cheeks when she blinks.

"How did you sleep?" His voice is low, almost mute as to not break their shared peace.

The trauma surgeon bites her bottom lip, eyes his face up and down before she rests her gaze on his chest, "Great." She digs deeper, batters her pink flesh, "You?"

"Same." He admits, casually running a hand through her locks before cupping the back of her neck, bringing her into his space.

She smiles at that, quickly moving her hands to his chest to push him backwards as he rolls over. His hands run down her sides, fingertips dancing along the edges of her back, pressing into her skin softly, marking her as his once again.

The new level of intimacy she'd been uncertain about just a few moments ago has broken and she feels no need to cover herself or bare shame as she straddles his waist, chest before him and eyes shifting over his naked body.

"Damn it."

She perks her head up then, dragging her hazel eyes back up from his lap to his face. She licks her lips, traces his coloured skin with her soft hands.

She feels like a blank canvas beside him, like a drawing that hasn't quite been finished.

He's wider, larger, greater. He's had things, done more, been someone. He's drawn, just as she is to him.

"Damn it." Jackson repeats with a quiet laugh, leaning his head further back into the pillow beneath him as his rougher hands sketch her creamy flesh, absorbing every freckle and perfect fold.

"What?"

"You."

She shifts against his lap then, digging her nails into his sides, gripping his steady body as she shuffles forward, right where she wants to be, right where she wants him to be.

"Me?" April bats her lashes again, unable to take her eyes away from his face, suddenly amazed by the scar on his forehead. She leans across and lifts a finger up to trace the marked flesh, springing back suddenly when she feels his mouth against her chest.

Her reflexes lead her to hold him there, hands clasped around the back of his head as he trails his lips between her breasts, jerks her when he flicks a nipple with his tongue.

"Oh, God." Her eyes shut, hands tighten and she bites her lip again, slicing her padded flesh.

Her fingers tap along the base of his neck innocently when he moves across her chest, nibbles at her other breast with his edged teeth and swirls his tongue around her perked pink flesh.

"Jackson."

"Hmm." He groans, moving himself into s sitting position and pressing his palms into the swell of her back, keeping her upright against him, keeping her close.

April swallows a breath, sweeps half-opened eyes down his toned back, tightening her stomach muscles as he continues to nip and lick and kiss at her chest. "Stop."

And he does. Because she asks him to, because she wants him to, because he's not an animal and he's gonna let her take control of things if she needs to.

He pulls away, though by doing so he drags his lips up her neck, tongue teasing her carotid and sending a whole new round of shivers down her spine.

"Can we just-" She doesn't finish her sentence, only looks down and chews her lip.

He obviously catches on because he nods without a single word and allows her to move, pushing his legs apart to grant her space.

His hands find her thighs, thumbs stroking along the intimate insides as she leans back, reaches for his erection and slowly slips down onto him, carefully arching her back while grasping his shoulders.

"Unh..." Her eyes close again, and he's beginning to notice it more than he did before, and her bottom lip crinkles when she tugs the flesh between her teeth, simultaneously biting the insides of her cheeks.

He slides one hand down her back, slipping past her bottom so he can make sure he stays with her, in her. His other hand travels down her back so slowly that she almost forces him into going faster, and his knuckles turn white from gripping her side so tighter as he rounds her back with his arm.

Keeping a steady pace and rhythm and grip along his shoulders, she feels her breathing start to eradicate when he shifts faster, goes deeper, buries himself in her like he'd found a hiding place. She feels a pain in her back, a tightening of some sort when he holds her, hands rough and possessive. She doesn't mind. She likes it, loves it, loves him.

Her legs wrapped around his frame start to tingle after a few moments and it takes a good few more thrusts on his behalf for her to sob out, chest heavy and breaths rapid.

Against her own will, she finds her hands scraping his skin, marking him as her own and leaving him dented, bruised from her love. She arches, moans, has to throw her head down against his shoulder to bite his muscle to stop herself from screaming.

On his end, his hands have started to shift, and he allows himself to lie down, dragging her with him and moving her legs so she rests above him, hands to chest and thighs to sides, intimacy still pressed wildly against his, heated still being satisfied.

He cups the back of her neck with one hand, pulling her face over his, passionately smothering her sinful cries and silencing her with a tongue past her lips.

"Jacks-" She pulls away, leans back with a panting of her chest and finally moans aloud, hips shuffling back and forth against his, feeling him swell deeper inside of her, the muscles of her body clenching when she feels him empty, release into her desire, her own cloud nine.

"Come on, baby."

It's the dragging of his fingers across her creamy thighs that does it, that betrays her, that hands her to him on a silver platter.

It's because of the way he grunts, mutters her name over and over again when he reaches his climax that she gives in, tightens around his everything and folds into his body like a cold shiver.

She falls forward onto his chest when she orgasms, hands still in place and she feels his arm wrap tightly around her frame, bringing her home, bringing her to him, as if they could be any more connected than they already were.

Her lips part against his caramel skin, and he copies, pressing butterfly kisses along the curve of her shoulder, arms wrapped around her back like clothing, feeling her bones and muscles beneath his touch like a gift from God himself.

He doesn't believe in all the things that she does, but he can believe in this.

He can succumb to the idea of giving yourself to someone forever. He can agree that maybe some people are truly meant to be together.

But he won't believe in a higher power, that miracles happen, that life is a gift; he doesn't need to.

He has her. And that's enough for now.


End file.
